Before the clock strikes
by DarkBrooks
Summary: A short story about the Joker's parents, and what they did and what happened which led to him becoming the Clown Prince of Crime. WARNING: Rated T for violence (abuse) and language.


**A/N: This is just a short story I wrote. Warnings for violence and language.**

xx

The big hand on the clock struck twelve. The dark room descended into a hush, a suspense, the passing of time irrevocable and subtle. Isla Napier drummed her fingers on the table, her blank eyes staring up at the clock as it struck twelve. She wiped a tear off her cheek and sniffed quietly, flicking her dark hair out of her face.

Jack Napier peeped round the door, his eyes curious and confused. He was a boy of six and frequently suffered from terrible nightmares. He used to cry out in the night and his mother would come to him, wrap her arms around him and tell him everything was all right, she would tell him a story, a fairy tale, such a Goldilocks and the Three Bears. That was his favourite. Those bears were so naughty.

He did not like to see his mother cry, but she did it often. Every night she would stare up at the clock. So much so that she did not even hear him cry out to her.

"Mummy?" he questioned wearily, holding his blanket to him. Isla peeled her eyes away from the clock and was shocked to see her son standing at the door.

"Jack, what are you doing, sweetie, you're meant to be asleep" she chastised lightly, walking over to him and lightly ruffling his hair. "Are you okay?"

"I had a bad dream" Isla held him to her, and he nestled into her shoulder.

"Was it the one about the clowns?" she asked delicately as the stroked his hair. He nodded softly and she smiled. "Clowns are meant to be funny, you silly boy"

"I know." He mumbled from her shoulder. "Where's daddy?"

His mother froze, and peeled him off her shoulder. "Daddy's a bit late home again." she said, looking him directly in the eyes.

"He's always a bit late"

Isla stiffened. She was well aware of the fact that her husband was always late and she never knew why. She would stay up for hours waiting for him to come home, wandering if he ever would. One time, she had stayed awake all night, her eyes fixed to the clock, the hours blurring into one and precious time evading her, rushing past her eyes as they waited and waited. He had finally returned, drunk, at one in the afternoon the next day. Thankfully, Jack had been out of the house.

Isla decided it better to not reply, and instead nudged Jack towards the staircase.

"You need to go back to bed, young man" she whispered, a smile playing on her lips.

"But, mummy, the _dreams_"

"It will be okay, Jack. Dreams aren't real. Nothing can hurt you, alright?" she patted him lightly on the head and he made his way slowly up the stairs.

She turned weary eyes back to the clock.

Tick, tick tick, tick, went the big hand on the clock, mocking her, taunting her, screaming "you're wasting precious time waiting for someone who will never come back".

"He will come back. He always does" she declared out loud. Her voice rang throughout the empty room. She repeated her mantra over and over again in her head "He will come back, he always does. He will come back, he always does…"

The click of the lock on the front door startled her from her trance. The old door scraped open and she heard footsteps clatter into the landing. A breath hitched in her chest and she stood up, her legs shaking, and walked slowly towards the door. Her husband stood at the threshold, hanging his jacket on the hatstand and, unsurprisingly, reeking of alcohol.

"You're back" she muttered uncertainly, causing her husband to turn around.

He stared at her wordlessly, piercing blue eyes blurry and posture slumped. He shoved her out of the way and waltzed into the kitchen, opened the cupboard and took out a bottle of whisky.

"Please, no more" she begged, standing nervously at the entrance to the kitchen.

His head twitched and he turned to face her, face terribly contorted and eyes ablaze with anger.

"What did you say?"

Her eyes widened in alarm. She should have stayed quiet.

"I'm sorry, I just…"

"You just need to keep your mouth shut" he decried icily, turning away from her.

She silently let the breath that had hitched in her throat escape from her mouth. He was not too angry yet. But she did not want him to have any more alcohol. If Jack had not been upstairs, she would have just left her husband to drink to his heart's content, but she did not want Jack to be in the house when his father got too angry. He always seemed to get rather angry with her. She would just be sitting there, staring at the wall, trying her hardest to be invisible, when suddenly, smack! His hand would whip across her forehead, leaving a thick red mark she had to tell Jack was a result of her faulty foundation.

She began to panic when her husband took a swig of his whisky and stared at him in horror as he drowned the whole bottle.

She had forgotten, he did not like being stared at.

His eyes turned dark and he walked over to her in three quick strides. His form loomed over a foot above her, terrifying blue eyes boring into her soft brown ones with chilling hatred.

He suddenly grabbed her by the throat and she made a choking noise. "Care to tell me what you were _looking_ at?" he muttered in a cold voice, ice dripping into her soul, freezing all the happiness that might have been there before.

"I, I wasn't staring, I mean, well, I wasn't…" she choked, her nails scratching the wall, peeling off the paint and leaving long, trailing tear marks running down the surface.

"Don't lie to me, you stupid bitch" he spat furiously, showering her with spit.

She closed her eyes and tried to stop the panic swelling deep within her. She could hardly breathe his hand was wrapped so tightly around her throat. But she could not make too much noise. She could not wake Jack. She did not want him to see this.

"I'm sorry…" she stammered. She felt tears welling up behind her eyes. He continued to stare at her furiously.

"No you're not" he denounced coldly. "You're just going to do it again, aren't you, love?"

"No I won't, I promise, I-"

He suddenly pulled her away from the wall and then slammed her back into it, her head colliding painfully with the surface.

"You _promise_?" he shouted in her face. "What are your promises to me, you stupid, ugly litte-"

"I'm sorry, please, don't shout, you'll wake-"

"_Don't_ tell me what to do!" he screamed, pushing her harder against the wall. "You think you can order me around. _I_ make the orders around here, go it?"

"Yes, yes I'm sorry, please..."

"Please what? Stop begging. Just stop. Shut up!" he slapped her hard across the face, causing her to gasp. "I said shut up!" he slapped her again, harder this time. "Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!" he shouted fervently, beating her harder each time he said it. Each time she gasped in pain, causing him to get angrier.

"Don't you listen to me?" he bellowed, bloodshot eyes boring into hers. "I said, fucking shut up!"

With that, he lifted her off the ground by her throat and threw her onto the floor. The wind was pushed out of her lungs and she gasped. Blood was seeping out of her mouth and she could barely see anything out of her swollen right eye.

"Do you get it now? You need to be quiet. Quiet, quiet, quiet!" He began to kick her in the ribs, his hard boots causing spasms of pain to erupt throughout her body. She could not help it anymore. It was too painful. She screamed out in agony as she felt one of her ribs crack.

"Don't you fucking understand me?" he said, grabbing her by the collar and pulling her up to him. "I said, don't fucking-"

"Mummy?" a voice sounded from the corridor. Jack stared at them in shock. His father dropped his mother to the ground, causing her to emit a quiet yelp of pain.

His father stared at him, his dark eyes contorted in fury. He began to slowly walk towards Jack, an eerie grin on his face.

"You're mummy is a very naughty person, Jack" he decried, his voice dripping with scorn.

"Wait, please-" Isla his mother stammered from the floor, struggling to get herself up but failing miserably.

"Shut up" he said, his wry smile vanishing for a fleeting second before he turned back to Jack. "Are you anything like your mummy?"

Jack's eyes widened in surprise. He did not quite know how to answer that.

"Answer me please." His father said, his smile beginning to waver. "You are half of your mother here. Are you more like her, or more like me?"

Jack stared at his mother, lying crippled on the floor, her eyes staring up at him, imploring, _begging _him to say something, _anything_.

He turned back to his father, his face and voice surprisingly calm. "I'm nothing like her, father."

His mother sighed in relief. She knew that now her husband would not harm Jack.

"Well that is good." His father declared, his smile returning. "You must understand then that she needs to be punished. She's a very naughty girl, isn't she?"

Jack stared at his mother blankly, unsure of what to say. Her broken and bloody form lay there, quivering in fear, unable to move or do anything. It was quiet pathetic really.

He stared back at his father, his gaze not wavering despite the older man's harsh and ferocious stare. The boy said nothing.

"Isn't she?" his father asked again, his anger beginning to rise once more.

Jack continued to stare at him, silent.

"Why you little-" his father made to attack him, his hand curled into a fist. His mother however, crashed across the floor with what was left of her strength and reached up and grabbed his arm, stopping him from hitting the boy.

His face knotted in anger and his eyes blazed. Jack thought he almost looked rather comical.

"How dare you. How _dare_ you!" he screamed, pushing her hard onto the floor. He kicked her in the chest and she screamed. He then pinned her down on the floor and straddled her. He began to punch her and slap her across the face. Each beating resulting in a scream or a yelp of pain. She did not fight back. Jack did not know if it was because she could not or because she would not. She just lay there, her arms limp by her sides.

Jack watched. He did not intervene. He just stood there and watched. His father, he knew, was an unreasonable man, and tended to over react. But he could not think of what his mother had done to deserve such a punishment. It must have been something very bad, Jack thought, for his father would never hurt his mother without reason.

He did not know how long he stood there. Perhaps it was thirty seconds, perhaps a few minutes, perhaps even ten. His father eventually stopped and stood up, sweat pouring down his face and tears in his eyes. He grabbed his coat and left the house, the slam of the door echoing throughout the halls.

Jack knelt down beside his mother. Her body was covered in bruises and blood was dripping onto the floor from her mouth. Jack thought that it would leave a nasty stain on the carpet.

"Jack…" she muttered croakily, her voice marred by a thick layer of blood clotting her mouth. He moved closer to her and she stared up at him through swollen eyes.

"Jack, please, you must listen to me." She began, her face contorting in pain at the agony that speaking ensued. "You must never become like this. Never. Please, Jack, don't become like him, don't become like me. You can become a better person, you have good in your heart. You can escape this life and live any life you want, forget about us, okay? Just please, get away." Her body began to convulse and she coughed up blood. "Please, you have to promise me. You will be better than this. You can do anything, anything, just never, ever become a bad person. _Promise_ me, please…"

Jack stared down into her eyes. He pitied her.

"I promise" he said, his voice emotionless.

But some promises are hard to keep.


End file.
